Family Lessons. Allie Pleiter

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ been thinking on that.” He had. That safe contained more gold than Evans Grove had seen in a good long while, and while he knew from Curtis Brooks that there weren’t other railroad passengers’ funds or valuables in there, others did not. “It’s not the kind of thing we can leave unprotected. As for the rail line, I filed a report with the conductor, but with that kind of damage, I doubt they’ll want it back. It’ll spend the night with me in the sheriff’s office and then we’ll get Charlie Miller to open it in the morning.” Mason felt sure the village smithy—husband of the same Charlotte Miss Sanders just spoke of recruiting to help with the children—would be able to work that damaged door off its hinges.

      “And then what?”

      He allowed himself the luxury of watching her face’s peculiar vitality when working out a problem. All scrunched up and amusing, it was. It must be what made her the type to be a good teacher. Not him. Mason would rather deal with bandits than herd youngsters any day. The whining from the back of the wagon this afternoon had just about done him in, even though it didn’t seem to faze her one bit.

      “The ‘then what’ is best kept between just a few, if you don’t mind.” He did not care to venture into a detailed discussion about anything with her, and keeping that gold hidden and secure was his top priority. Far too much depended on it.

      “I’m sure you and Mr. Brooks will work something out.” She turned, looking behind her down the street for the other wagon.

      “They’ll be another hour, I expect.”

      “Are you sure they’re safe?”

      He’d already gone over the tactic twice with Curtis Brooks. “I wouldn’t be here if they weren’t. You just worry about—”

      “Look at that!” came a small voice from behind them on the wagon as they drove past Gavin’s General Store, which happened to have an unfortunate display of hard candies out in the window. “I’m hungry!”

      “Me, too,” came another, followed by two more. Mason’s own stomach grumbled in sympathy.

      “Goodness.” Miss Sanders’s hand went to her stomach. “I don’t think I’ve eaten since breakfast. I do hope Beatrice got to the ladies’ society.”

      “You know Beatrice,” Mason chuckled. “She gets to everybody.”

      As the town square came into view, Mason pointed to the collection of tables now set in the grove of Hackberry trees that gave the town its name. A gaggle of women chattered and scurried around Beatrice Ward, dashing here and there under the spinster’s barked commands. Flowers, tablecloths and other frills made the last-minute meal seem as if it had been planned for weeks.

      “What a welcome for those tired folk!” Miss Sanders placed her hands on her chest. “God bless Beatrice Ward and the ladies’ society.”

      Now there’s a thought I’d never have, Mason pondered as he pulled the wagon onto Liberty Street and headed for the town hall.

      It was a matter of minutes before the wagon was surrounded by the good people of Evans Grove, and Miss Ward was giving a long, too-formal welcome speech. Impromptu as it was, the cobbled-together spread and Miss Ward’s grandiose gestures could make a person think they had stumbled into the annual town picnic. Had Miss Sterling taken note of the many buildings that were still in bad shape? Would Mr. Brooks realize how many lives had been washed away a month ago? Hope was wearing mighty thin in Evans Grove, but at least it was still alive.

      “Come, Rebecca, sit down and have a glass of water. I’ll tend to the children.” Mason watched Holly Sanders guide Miss Sterling to a seat. How did the teacher manage such a cheerful and upbeat tone like that? He felt as if he’d lived a month in the last five hours. She must feel as bad, if not worse. He got his answer when he saw her put her hand to her forehead and straighten up far too slowly from helping that tiniest of girls. He wasn’t the only one hiding wounds today in Evans Grove.

      Mason told himself to look away, but when her gaze met his, he found he could not. A shadow crossed her pale blue eyes; he could see it even from this distance across the shady clearing. His mind pulled up the unwelcome memory of the desperate grip she’d given him over Mr. Arlington’s dead body. He recalled the hesitant touch she’d given him in the wagon. The day had done something to her, to be sure. Taken something from her, although he couldn’t say what just yet.

      Then again he wasn’t sure just what the day had stripped from him, either. He only knew something under his ribs was out of place, and it wasn’t the sort of thing Doc Simpson could put right.

      He needed to get out of here, away from the jumble her eyes made of his thoughts. He forced her touch out of his mind, tamping it down the way he tamped down all those sorts of things anymore. He had a foursome of criminals, a broken safe full of gold and a body to tend to. He had no time for picnics. Ignoring the look Beatrice Ward gave him when he snatched a pair of rolls from the buffet table, Mason turned back toward the wagon and the duties still awaiting him.

      Life wasn’t going to allow him such an easy out, for Holly Sanders caught up with him just as he was about to swing up into the seat. “You should eat.” Her tone of voice was...what? Complicated was the only word that came to mind—half request, half scolding, and weighted with the combined gains and losses of the day.

      He held up the pair of rolls as his answer, unsure of what words to use given the set of her eyes.

      “More than that.” Her hands parked on her hips while her voice wove a combination of lecture and teasing. Did she realize what that half-playful tone did to him, or was that just a cruel trick of circumstance?

      “Too much yet to do.” He shrugged. “I’ve got...things...to attend to that can’t wait for supper.” He saw her shoulders sag and knew he hadn’t hidden the weight of his tasks behind an innocent word like “things.” She’d tried to re-pin her hair during the ride, but wayward strands of her chestnut-colored locks still eluded that tight bun she always wore. The lace on one of her sleeves had torn, and he realized the brown smear on the hem of her pretty skirt was blood.

      It bothered him that her gaze followed his, that she knew what his eyes registered. She worried her hands together, delicate fingers rubbing each other as if it would erase the taint of the day. “Where is...he?” He knew she was speaking of Arlington’s body, but her eyes looked up from her skirt to fix on Liam. The boy sat quietly on a bench running his fingers around the rim of a glass of lemonade. All the children were a heartbreaking mix of fidgety, tired and afraid.

      “He’s at Doc Simpson’s, I suppose. He’s got no kin here to lay him out.”

      Her sigh pressed against the hollow spot opening in his chest. “He has a wife...had a wife. And a daughter, according to Miss Sterling. We should wire—”

      “No point until the morning, really. It’s kinder that way, anyhow.” Mason tried not to think of the story she should never know, the story of his own worst night. He’d barely survived the endless, excruciating hours after coming home to the body of his wife. To the loss of the child who in two months’ time would have come into the world as his firstborn. No, he thought, bad news is best saved for daylight.

      She straightened her shoulders—almost by sheer will this time, not hiding her wince. It was the worst kind of torture that she’d shown a new side of herself to him today. He hadn’t counted on Holly Sanders’s gumption, thinking she had smarts enough but no strength. Her bravery at the rail line had shown СКАЧАТЬ